Drown My Sorrow
by Arianni
Summary: Postseries. Oneshot. Alphonse tries his hardest to stop Winry drinking herself to death over Ed. But she never listens. Can you say...angsty?


A/N: DEATH TO BLOCK TESTING! Sorry everyone, I'm in exams and they're driving me more nuts than Ed getting called short. I wrote this immediately after finishing the FMA series with one word on my mind: aftermath. Enjoy!

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Winry tossed back the contents of the shot glass and looked around, bleary-eyed. Everything seemed like the picture of an untuned television: fuzzy, with random flashes of clarity and indistinct sound. She turned her attention back to the glass, and was disappointed to find it free of alcohol.

"N'other one, please," she said, her voice thickly slurred. The bartender gave her a stern look.

"I think you've had enough, sweetheart." He spoke kindly, with an air of experience. Winry plonked her elbows on the counter and scratched her pretty blonde head. How many had she had? Four…five? Or was that how long Edward had been gone?

"I've only haddabout five years," she droned, tapping the glass on the countertop. The man sighed and gently pried it from her loose fingers.

"That long, hunh?" he murmured. In her drunken state, Winry buried her head in her arms and just sat there on the rough wooden bar stool. It _had_ been that long.

* * *

_Meanwhile, outside…

* * *

_

"Sorry, but I can't let you in, kid. Rules is rules."

"But you don't understand! There's someone in there who needs my help!" Al's childish voice cut through the air like a knife. His fists were balled to his chest like he used to when he was younger, and the bouncer continued to block his path. Pinako had sent him to fetch Winry from the bar. Again. Normally it was no problem, but…

"Where's Tony? He's the one usually on duty on Thursdays. Did he mention me?" Al asked. The bouncer thought for a moment, then appeared to be struck by something. He snapped his fingers.

"Tony's sick. But I remember; he said something about some hot young thing coming in here every now and again, and that some kid always came to get her when it got late. So you're this kid, right? Hunh, thought you didn't look eighteen." Al blushed and fidgeted. He was never good at lying, like Edward. Although Al doubted his brother could convince anyone he was older. He used to have enough trouble telling people he was fifteen instead of twelve.

"No sir. I'm fifteen. I'm sorry I lied, but I have to get her out of there before she does any more damage to herself." Al said. He hadn't broken eye contact with the bouncer yet, and he was hoping against hope that the man would see the honesty in him. It was the same powerful, pleading look he had adopted when he and Edward asked Izumi to teach them alchemy. The bouncer folded his arms and stared at Al thoughtfully.

"You really love your sister that much, hey."

"Hunh? Oh…yes. Yes, I do."

_It's a half—lie, sort of, _thought Al as the bouncer stepped aside. _Winry's like a sister to me. _Al was now used to the range of adults watching him make his way through the bar quite confidently, as if he were a common resident there. In truth, he was. Ever since Winry started drinking, he'd been there to pick her off the floor. And he would do it again in a few days. And again. And again. Come Edward's birthday, or the anniversary of his disappearance, she'd be there every night. Were it not for Pinako locking her in her room to cry out the pain. But, not tonight.

Al approached the bar where a slender figure was bent over, a mass of platinum blonde hair fanned out over the countertop. He nodded briefly to the bartender before leaning down to Winry's slumped form.

"Winry?" he said timidly. She lifted her head, and Al studied her. She had grown so beautiful over the years, if that were possible. But her elfin face was becoming marred more often by blood-shot eyes, blotchy skin, and even a few wrinkles on bad nights. Winry was only twenty-one, but if she kept up this lifestyle she was going to look twice that age.

"Time to go, hunh Al." It was a statement, not a question.

"Yes. Come on, Pinako said some customers came in earlier to see-"

"You look nothin' like Ed, you know."sheslurred, sliding off the barstool to stand unsteadily. Al sighed, took her hand, and began to weave through the thinning crowd. This was the way it was most nights. She'd always bring up Edward without fail. Sometimes not as docilely as this; things turned very ugly when she got aggressive.

A bunch of women whispered behind their hands as Al half-dragged Winry past them. He swallowed his frustration and pressed on. A fifteen year old leading a drunken older woman away? Scandalous! Ed had always been the older-looking one, despite his height deficiencies. There was something in those amber eyes. It said 'I've seen it all. You can't possibly imagine what I've been through.' But to have that look in your eye from the age of twelve is never a good thing. Winry hiccuped and staggered into Al, giggling.

"At least you're taller! Right, Alphonse?" she trilled, patting his hair. It was true: Al had grown a lot, surpassing Ed's old height (he could only imagine how tall he was now) and even Winry long ago. If Ed could see him now, Al doubted he'd recognise him. Al had grown a good ten inches, maybe more. He was lean and fit from all the martial arts training; his skin had a richer tan to it. But he still had the same freckled cheeks, same mop of short brown hair, and the same innocent tone to his voice, despite the fact it had broken a while ago. Winry's drunken babbling continued, "You'll never be seven foot though! That's how tall you were when you was a suit o' armour."

Al sighed and pulled her out the door into the cold night air. His soul had no memories of the four years spent attached to a suit of armour, and he hated it when she mentioned those times when she was drunk. It was like gossiping about someone he didn't know. He couldn't remember, so how could he answer? He didn't. That was another thing Alphonse Elric retained – his calm, positive personality.

He hailed a taxi from the street and helped Winry clamber inside, she still raving about fixing 'Ed's automail' or something else ridiculous. Al really felt sorry for her, and guilty at himself. She had seen the hell he and Edward apparently went through, yet he remembered nothing. Winry drowned her sorrows in alcohol. Al had nothing that needed drowning.

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End file.
